Class Assignment, December 2, 2011 (the day before my 7/12th birthday)

I had to write about the following questions for my doctoral orientation class:
1)  Describe the degree as if it has already been accomplished.
2)  Describe your graduation ceremony.
3) Include emotion, people, and the details that will help to crystallize the vision into reality.
4)  Finally describe what this degree has answered in your life.

Here's what I wrote:

Doctorate Shmoctorate

I have a strong feeling that this degree will be “way too much hype for no applause.”  I imagine myself walking out of my successfully triumphed dissertation defense and the stoplights will still go from green to yellow to red and back to green, the wind will still be blowing, the sun will still be shining, and I’ll still have to push doors open and shut.  What I would like to happen when I graduate are some Aurora Borealis lights with my name in them, a custom made Jacuzzi that I could swim in inside my apartment, zebras to talk to me, and a wedding proposal after which I would pass out with romantic bliss.  However, somehow I really don’t think any of those would happen (although I would REALLY like the latter to and am now taking resumes for that man with exceptional qualities and character).

Anyway.  I digress.

The world will continue and I’ll still be called Jenaya by friends and family, but my resume will have a bit more sparkle.  For my graduation ceremony, I’m not sure how I can top my last one.  For my Master’s, I had a frohawk (hair braided up to a big fancy braid down the middle) which was handcrafted by a very dear and amazing friend of mine, earrings from Costa Rica that my frohawk mastermind brought me from her trip there Summer 2010, black stockings, and a custom designed pair of orange and white striped, Dr. Seuss’ Cat in the Hat emblazoned, high-top Chucks.  It was amazingly epic. 

So for this graduation?  I’ve really no idea.   I’ll start planning my outfit at around month 28 of this program.  I’d like my family members to be here and I’d like a poster made in my honor with glitter.  Lots of glitter.  I’ll probably cry a whole bunch—I’ve never done that at a graduation before.  Then would probably be apropos.  I’ll also completely pay attention in this graduation, but will take pictures of myself on my phone and upload them to FaceBook during the ceremony.  I’d also like to go to a jazz bar to celebrate afterwards and sway to the music and bask in the knowledge that I will never ever, ever, ever, never have to be in another weekend class for 14 hours (not like I don’t like them because I do).

At the end of this, I will have reached my 14-year-old dream of getting my doctorate.  I will officially call myself an adult after this and believe that my life will really truly have “started.”  This is when I’ll be fully confident in who I am and what I’m supposed to do on this planet.  I probably won’t tell many people that if my schooling was a human it would be old enough to drink alcohol or that I’ve had numerous embarrassing meltdowns in Wal-Mart or that I’ve written the equivalent of 3 Harry Potter books worth of academic jargon.  In the end, it’s no big deal.  If Mother Theresa or Mr. Rogers or Jesus had their doctorates, I’m sure they wouldn’t tell anybody either.

At the moment, I don’t even feel righteous enough to be called “Future Dr. Perdue”—I’m sure I’ll gain that righteousness after I pass doctoral comps. 

Ahh yes. 

But for now, I’ll plug on.  I’ll figure out Bowling Green, stay lost in Research Methods, try to figure out who’s who at WKU, find a brilliant dissertation idea, learn how to have colleagues, enjoy new budding friendships, continue to crave Chick-Fil-A’s #1 sandwich with no pickle, and continue to serve humanity.  When it’s all done, I’ll say, “Doctorate Shmoctorate.  I learned a lot, I wrote a lot, I cried a lot.  I’ve been transformed and I’m ready to change the world!”  If you are the same person at the end of the degree as you were in the beginning and you’re not able to inspire post-doctorately, then all your degree is is fire tender and a waste of tree pulp. 

Oh.  Did I mention I’m going to tour Europe for 2 months after I graduate.? Yes.  I’m bringing 1 suitcase, my laptop MacKenzie, a camera, a map to mark big, red X’s through the countries that I have visited, and my passport.

The End.

"7 I once thought these things were valuable, but now I consider them worthless because of what Christ has done. 8 Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage, so that I could gain Christ 9 and become one with him. I no longer count on my own righteousness through obeying the law; rather, I become righteous through faith in Christ.[c] For God’s way of making us right with himself depends on faith. 10 I want to know Christ and experience the mighty power that raised him from the dead. I want to suffer with him, sharing in his death, 11 so that one way or another I will experience the resurrection from the dead!" Philippians 3:7-11

My First Doctoral Paper, My Favorite Hymn

I just finished writing my first paper of the semester…

And it’s November.

This semester, I’m only take 1 class which is worth about 6 hours.  The head hanchos of the program said with great wisdom and caution that I should just chill out and not over-do it.  It was “vitally important for me to get acclimated to the program.”  So after great deliberation, I decided to heed their advice. 

I’m really grateful I did because teaching this semester has been pretty intense.  Did you know you can’t fall asleep during lectures if you’re the one lecturing?? News flash.

Last semester was the exact opposite of only writing one paper in a semester.  I wrote between 160 and 180 pages of material in 16 weeks.  It kinda makes writing a dissertation not seem so ominous.  Welcome to being an Organizational COMMUNICATION major.  If somebody would have told me that communication degrees mean that you write until your mental and computer hard drives explode, I may have reconsidered.  But what’s done is done.  And nobody can take my degree away from me.

The part that most perplexed me about writing this 1500 word paper was how long it took. THREE DAYS!!! First of all, that would have been unacceptable last semester.  Two, if this paper were due last semester, I would have written it in a couple hours.  Maybe I was nervous and actually proofed it because I want/need to impress my professors or maybe my fingers had scholastic rheumatoid arthritis and writing was just completely unfeasible. 

I don’t know.

I have class this weekend and I’m pretty excited about it.  I don’t feel like it’s class, but more like a conference wnere you just share your opinions, listen to others’ ideas, and sit for a really really really long time. 

I also looked at my upcoming semester and it doesn’t seem like death.  I really think that getting my doctorate won’t be absolutely terrible.  It’ll be difficult, but not deadly.  Thank You, Jesus.

So those are my thoughts for the day.

OH ONE MORE THING!! Shout out to my Savior for bringing back my attendance records for my classes.  Something happened on MacKenzie, my laptop, and I wasn’t able to open my files that had my kiddos’ attendance and extra credit points documented.  It would have taken HOURS to recompense all that data and try to remember where each of my babies have been and why.  I went to go heat up my chili in the main communication office and it “just so happened” that the IT guy for the whole college of arts and letters was fixing a computer.  I demurely asked, “Do you by chance know about Macs?” He said ‘of course’ and I almost shouted and did the Baptist two-step.  How grateful I was for such a diving appointment. 

Jesus has been doing a lot of “just so happened’s” lately and they make me giggle all the time.  I feel like He really does love me a lot and is looking out for me.  I knew that already, but whenever he shows me (which is often) in obvious ways, I know know that and I fall more and more deeply in love with Him.

Let’s sing!

Oh! How I Love Jesus
By:  Frederick Whitfield, 1855

V. 1 
There is a Name I love to hear,

I love to sing its worth;

It sounds like music in my ear,

The sweetest Name on earth.

Refrain
O how I love Jesus,

O how I love Jesus,

O how I love Jesus,

Because He first loved me!

V. 2
It tells me of a Savior’s love,

Who died to set me free;

It tells me of His precious blood,

The sinner’s perfect plea.

V. 3
It tells me of a Father’s smile

Beaming upon His child;

It cheers me through this little while,

Through desert, waste, and wild.

V. 4
It tells me what my Father hath

In store for every day,

And though I tread a darksome path,

Yields sunshine all the way.

V. 5
It tells of One whose loving heart

Can feel my deepest woe;

Who in each sorrow bears

A part that none can bear below.

V. 6
It bids my trembling heart rejoice.

It dries each rising tear.

It tells me, in a “still small voice,”

To trust and never fear.

V. 7
Jesus, the Name I love so well,

The Name I love to hear:

No saint on earth its worth can tell,

No heart conceive how dear.

V. 8
This Name shall shed its fragrance still

Along this thorny road,

Shall sweetly smooth the rugged hill

That leads me up to God.

V. 9
And there with all the blood-bought throng,

From sin and sorrow free,

I’ll sing the new eternal song

Of Jesus’ love for me.

JLP

P.S. I had no idea there were this many verses to this hymn.  I copied them all cuz they’re all great!

Have a blessed one, everybody!

My 1/2 Birthday...the Cat's out the Bag

Today is a very special day in the life of Jenaya.  Very very special day.  Today is my ½ birthday!!!

(Insert streamers and noise-makers)

I had a great time today enjoying myself’s company.  I got to sleep in and lay in bed for as long as I wanted which was about 12 noon.  I don’t know what happened, but I woke up at 7:30 am, rolled over and blinked, and it was 10:30, rolled over and blinked again, and it was 11:45. Shame on the crazy time of the post-millenial era.

I was super hungry when awaking from my long slumber and ate vegan rabbit food.  I made some vegan taco meat stuff out of soy tempeh either yesterday or the day before that.  I opened a can of navy beans (my FAVORITE), drained the juice and squashed about ½ of them so it would make a more attractive looking refried bean concoction.  Then I got out some Zatarain’s Red Beans and Rice.  I pulled out my Rubbermaid plastic china, carefully placed my 3 mini-entrees into my bowl in even thirds and reheated my masterpiece.  With my blue-corn tortilla chips, I ate my way to delight with dollops of vegan sour cream, which tastes amazingly similar to regular sour cream—it is denser though.

I followed that with some coconut milk ice cream—Mint Chip—mm mm good!

At about 2pm, I thought it would be a good idea to get dressed.  I couldn’t figure out what to wear for my special day.  Then I said:

AHA!!! MY MURRAY STATE PANTS!!!!!!

What geniusness.

I got to FINALLY walk around WKU with my alma mater pants and had an excuse.  Not an excuse.  A reason.  Today’s my ½ birthday and I can wear what I want to wear.  I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone to look at my butt/back of my leg until today.  I wish I could have taken a picture of it for you, but that would be highly inappropriate and my future husband (wherever he may be) wouldn’t like the back of my leg on my blog.  It says “RACERS” in big block letters down the back of my leg. So just in case you didn’t know to what rhythm my heart beats, you can just walk away and you’ll say, “No more questions, your Honor.”

After Bible study, the Bible study leader ever so graciously took me to Kroger where I got to buy my “I love me” gift.  My rule on my birthday celebration days (which are the 3^rd of EVERY month) is I can buy myself anything within reason.  And on my ½ birthday, “within reason” can be a little more pricey.  Today I spent $12.  I got a box of organic cookies, some peas, tofu, and a vegan pot pie.  I ate the cookies on the bus ride home and the pot pie in front of my window.

A good day.

A great day.

After I tell people about my birthday celebrations, they never cease to raise their eyebrow completely perplexed and ask why oh why I do this.  After their nervous giggling, I tell them because I am just that awesome, I deserve lots of celebrations.  That is part of the reason.  You will never and I mean NEVER allow someone to love, feel someone’s love, appreciate someone’s love, know when someone is extending you TRUE love until you allow yourself to love yourself, feel your own love towards yourself, appreciate yourself, truly love yourself in healthy ways.  People are in abusive, unhealthy, premature relationships (speaking of “romantic” relationships) now because they don’t know what true love is and how much they are worth. 

That’s reasons #2-5 of why I celebrate my birthday so often.

I decided that whilst waiting of my precious love of my life to rescue me from my singleness, that I would learn what Jenaya likes and how to love myself.  At first when starting this practice a little over 10 years ago, I felt so guilty spending money and time on myself just for the sake of celebrating what God is accomplishing in me.  But the more I focused on celebrating, the higher my self-efficacy and positivity became.  Now, I don’t falter when I get attention from boys/youngsters/man-wanna-be’s because I’m not love-starved.  My Savior gave me the idea and I’m so grateful He did.

Reasons #6-459 of why I do this is because for 6 years, I was addicted to pornography.  I found out about it at 9 and was entrapped by it until I was 15.  It took 18 months of hell to recover from it and I can now say it has be 6 years since I’ve been truly free.  May God be praised!  What a terrible and dark and depressing and lonely and traumatizing place to be—to try to find love and acceptance in pictures that give back a standard you’ll never meet and an image that is not of God and His love.

So the real reason why I celebrate my birthdays?  When I was trying to get free from pornography, I set goals for myself.  If I could make it 1 day without looking at porn, I would celebrate.  Soon, I could make it a whole week.  Then 2 weeks.  Then I could do a month.  I had to extrinsically motivate myself to get rid of the filth rolling around in my head and the stimuli with which I would entice myself.  If I stayed porn-free for a month, I would spend the whole day thanking God for the HUGE victory and would enjoy a guilty pleasure. 

Now two things for my reading audience.

1.     I HIGHLY recommend strategically setting frequent days to enjoy yourself and figure out who you are.  I celebrate my birthdays, but it could be any day that means something special for you.  Are you broke?  No reason to not celebrate.  I’m broke on most of my birthdays too.  On those days, I wear my favorite pair of socks, play my favorite song several times, enjoy a movie I haven’t seen in a while, have a home-work free evening.  Whatever you choose, plan for it a couple days in advance so you anticipate your special day.

2.  If you are one that has a sexual addiction or are trapped in a sexual identity crisis and want out, I’d love to share with you my story and to hear yours.  I am at a place now in my life where I want to share what God has done in my life and want to show others that FREEDOM IS POSSIBLE!! I can’t tell you how many times I would read in books about how girls are never addicted to porn or that it’s normal/acceptable to indulge in sexual exploits “as long as you’re not having sex” or that you need to have occasional “sexual release.”  This is not the life God envisioned for His children and when you see what He desires, you will run towards the light and do whatever it takes to embrace His will for your life.  After all, what better sex life can have than the one the Creator of sex created, right??!

Anyway.  I hope this has encouraged someone somewhere out in cyberspace.  I wasn’t planning on talking about sexual addiction on my blog for my 1/2 birthday, but I gotta be obedient to what Jesus says cuz I love Him desperately and want to be a reflection for His glory.

Be blessed everybody!

JLP

November 3, 2011

Godsend in a Bottle

I think I’m going to start adding pictures to my blog.  Pictures are worth a 1000 words and some things you just have to see to believe.  Also, I’ve heard that Facebook is going to be overtaken by a secret group of hackers on November 5.  If that happens, I don’t know what I’ll do after I cry all my tears into my pillow.  I also feel like within the next 2-3 years, I’ll be phasing out of Facebook.  There’s really no point to it except to be nosey, but it depends on the friendships I develop and the ones I want to keep.  We’ll see.

I also love telling my stories that require more characters than a FB status will allow.   It’s a great outlet for winding down at night.  But it does take more time and makes my joints hurt from all this typing. 

Plusses and minuses.

One of my favorite things in America is Tropicana’s Simply Orange Juice.  It is a religious and expensive experience that is worth more than it’s $2.50 a bottle.  Swallowing the elixir is a savory moment in time when all background noises and conversations fade to the distance and you listen to the swish in your mouth of the South American orange juices flow past your uvula and down your esophagus. 

Aaaahhhh….bliss.

Well today, I went jogging for 24 minutes (I’ll speak on this in a later entry whenever I remember to) which ended up being 2 miles.  I drank a Naked Juice for breakfast and ran off to go teach.  It was 3pm before I got to eat breakfast.  As soon as I was done teaching and answering my kiddos’ questions, I raced over to the cafeteria and bought a slice of pizza, mixed vegetables, rice, and a cinnamon roll.  I shook some salt on the veggies and rice and scarfed it all done without even tasting it.  What a waste of $11 if you can’t even remember it.  Sad moment.

The best part of the lunch was the juice (refer to photo).  I had NO idea that Tropicana made grape juice and was just geeked to try it.  If it was anything in caliber and quality to their orange juice, I just KNEW my tastebuds would be in for a treat.

And it was all that I could imagine and more.  It was like Communion in a 12 ounce bottle.  I hadn’t had a glass of grape juice in YEARS and will definitely have to make this occasion happen more often. 

Blessings to everyone!

JLP

October and March

I’ve hit a slump in momentum.  I was totally “beasting” life.  Until last week.  I felt like a yacht in the middle of the ocean with a perfect wind opening its sail and gliding through the glassy water.  Until last week.  I felt like my fingers do when I twist my hair—so fluid and so calming and quick.  Until last week.

About 9 days ago or around last last Friday, all of my papers were graded, posted onto the online student connection site called Blackboard, lectures were prepared, schedule was perfectly followed and aligned.  It was beautiful.  Monday morning (7 days ago) hit and I had no absolutely NO, like none kind of desire to teach.  I wanted to sleep until at least 2:35pm and then watch movies all day til I would fall to a slumberful bliss at about 8:30pm.  Oh so extra terrible.  ESPECIALLY when you’re the teacher—trying to be excited and have an abundance of excitement to pass on to students.  AND of top of that, it was speech week which ALWAYS makes me sleepy. 

I did survive my extra special Monday and then hit an even specialer Tuesday.  Tuesdays and Thursdays are my rest days so I was able to rest. Wednesday hit and it was worse than Monday.  Thursday was blah.  And Friday was worse than Wednesday which was worse than Monday. 

Fail.

This last weekend (1-2 days ago), I had a conversation with Jesus and was trying to figure out “What in the world is going on?!?!!” and He calmly said—“Did you know it was October?”

I gave Him my exasperated look—“What does that mean??” I thought about it.

October.

Oc-tober.

Oct-oo-berrr.

OCTOBER!!!

OCTOBER AND MARCH!! These are my slump months!

Ever since I’ve been a freshman in college, I always hit a rut faithfully in October and March.  Never fails.  I’d start school brilliantly.  Slump.  Recover in November (prayerfully).  End school brilliantly.  Even when I’d try to overcompensate, overthink, overplan and try to avoid my slump, I would always hit it and it would always knock me academically unconscious.  I don’t know what it is, but it always wins.  I thought that since I had recently graduated that it would no longer be thusly, but alas, ‘tis.

I am grateful to say that I have bounced back.  I got my rhythm, my groove, my excitement, my vigor back.  Thank you, Jesus!

My slump this time left me with a pile of 65 speeches to record, absences to note, and a ton of bologna that was quite depressing.  I spent around 6.5 hours getting my life together after my out-of-body experience.  Some habits are easily breakable and easy to overcome, but this will take time.  I’ll try again in February and see if I can avoid my slump.  But for now, I can now say to the calendar and Fall semester: 

“BRING IT ON!”

THE Very Anticipated Baby Milestone

My very anticipated 1-monthaversary for living in my first apartment is approaching.  I’m pretty excited.  I wanted to note some of my loves and hates.

1.  Love:  Being off campus!

2.  Hate: It being my fault if I stay inside all day.  Since my kitchen is here, I don’t ever need to leave besides working and going to class on the weekends.  On my days off (like this one) the only fresh air I’ve gotten since yesterday has been through my window.  I can blame only myself for that.  That's one of my goals for this year is to accept it when I'm wrong, not to excuse my error onto something/one else, and be immediate when I don't deserve the credit (giving credit where it's due).

3.   Love:  My door.  I can close it and open it when I want.  This goes for my window.  It’s easily accessible by me at all times. I like my door.

4.  Hate:  Stairs.  There’s not many, but there’s more than 3.  I am grateful for being up high though.

5.  Love:  TRAIN!!! It passes by my window at least a million times a day and I still enjoy it.

6.  Hate:  Duplicates.  I’ve found 3 nail clippers and have enough detergent to last me at least a year given that I do one load a week.  I realized this year that I like to see and to have in stock exactly what I need.  Having bulk or duplicates stresses me out because I feel the need to use it immediately even when that option is not feasible, wise, or of being a good steward.  Thank you, Jesus, for the overflow.

7.  Love:  Large closet and dresser.  I went to go visit another apartment and it had neither of these.  I am grateful for the clothes that are carefully tucked away in them and for a place to store what God has blessed me with.

Although this is an odd number, one should always end with love.

Peace and blessings,

JLP

E.g. Life and curbs.

Some things should not be taken so quickly:  E.g. Life and curbs.

I have a new friend.  Her name is Edith, my bike.  She is a Trek 7.2 FX WSD for anybody who cares about numbers.  I normally don’t but since she’s new, I do remember them.  I also remember the check I wrote for her—ouch..

I’m an extra extreme new baby amateur rider.  I can ride to work and back which is one mile in one direction.  I can ride further, but it’s so hilly here that I tire very quickly.  I love love LOVE my bike.  And it doesn’t hurt that her name is shared with my favorite and most dear relative—my great-grandmother Edith Toussaint who is “101-plus” as she quips.  The names weren’t meant to match, but they do and I’m cool with that.

I just finished posting the next few weeks’ assignments for my students on an online database called Blackboard.  I have spent ALL day working.  I got to my office at 1030, made copies and caught a couple students up in homework assignments, taught at 1130, 1240, and 150, finished teaching at 240, posted assignments online until 945, and rode home.  It’s now 1017 and I’m eating cereal because even heating something up in the microwave is too much work.  Oh yeah.  I went potty at about 5pm.

But I had to tell you what happened on my ride home.  I got geared up to ride Edith and started riding.  It’s wonderful riding home because it’s all downhill and I can get up to 18 mph with no difficult whatsoever.  At the stoplight, I normally pop my front wheel and pedal to get up the curb, but today, I was going a bit too fast.  About 8 miles an hour too fast and didn’t break hard enough or proactively enough.  I made it up exactly 40% of the curb.  Before I knew it, my head leads my body toward the grass and over my handlebars. THUD! I blinked and quickly assessed the situation and thanked my Savior that it happened at night with no casual observers.

The front of my bike was turned almost 360-degrees and the chain was derailed.  I gingerly reattached the chain, checked the gears, picked up the pieces of my bike’s front light and put them in my back, and rode a bit more carefully home.

As I was thinking and meditating on my way home, I thought about how this situation so closely resembles life—mine in particular.  Sometimes we/I can plow right ahead and speed past roadblocks, traffic, stalled cars, and tough situations and assume that I am invincible until I have to switch gears and paths.  I have popped many a curbs in my bike riding days and this one has been successfully popped on many occasions.  What made the difference between the successful pops and the unsuccessful ones?  My speed and attentiveness.  I knew my path and knew the limitation of my bike and what I needed to do.  Also, I mustn’t just assume that because I’ve done something a million times that the “million-and-oneth (pronounced wonth)” time will be the same or be done carelessly.

Life is one amazing substance in our existence.  Just because we breathe doesn’t mean we have life.  It’s fascinating and can only be used/abused/dedicated/other verbs once.

Note to Self:  Watch out for life’s curbs.  

38 Minutes and Counting...

September 2, 2011

So I’m sitting in the Mass Media & Technology Hall at the moment aaaaannddd I can’t go in. I just can’t. In where? Into Gary A. Ransdell Hall. My home for the next 3 years. It’s across the street.

Today is the day I’ve been waiting for for years now. I will be starting my doctorate degree in approximately 38 minutes. I wanted to chronicle this moment because it’s kinda a big deal. I’ll be 24 and 1/3 (24 and 4 months) tomorrow and about to begin my last, final, ultimate, and TERMINAL degree. It shall outlive me…or so I’ve heard.

Am I nervous? Surprisingly no. I’ve had many a first days. First day of all the years of K-12—even preschool had a first day. And I like to celebrate all of my many “firsts.” I think they’re special. So today, my firsts are as followed:

1. First finished week of teaching as an adjunct professor/instructor.

2. First time I’ve ridden my bike to a night class.

3. First time I’ll really have to be an adult in class and not a young adult.

4. Last, but not least—First day of my Ed.D. in Educational Leadership, Organizational Leader strand (emphasis) at Western Kentucky University, Doctoral Orientation.

All the hoopla for just a really long class this weekend. Friday from 5-9 and Saturday from 8-5.

I was talking to Jesus in my apartment before I rode my bike over here. I usually do that before something new in my life—and also whenever I do mundane things too—and basically all things I do in life. He gave me a verse for this new adventure, my doctorate that is. It is:

Philippians 1:9, “I pray that your love will overflow more and more, and that you will keep on growing in knowledge and understanding.”

Here, Paul was talking to the church of Philippi and sharing with them how he walk praying for them as the continued to press on in the Christian faith. So if you, my reader, is a believer in the saving power of Jesus and call it your own, and rely on it in your daily life for forgiveness and sustenance, Paul was also praying over you.

So oftentimes, really, really smart people become loveless because they forget about people for they always have their nose in books. I have that propensity sometimes, but no more. There’s another verse I’ve been meditating on lately that I’ll probably share later. Anyway, Paul encourages us to continue learning. In my case, He’s given me the task and the opportunity to learn in an academic forum. Others learn in real life. Wherever you are, he pleads with believers to keep learning. But also, we are encouraged to continue to love and to be overwhelmed with love—the supernatural love that God gives us in order to spread to others; human love is finite.

I hope and pray that I love and that I learn. I also pray that burnout doesn’t set in until I’m at least 2 ¾ way done. I also hope that I still have Cool Points left in m y Cool-Points-O-Meter. I also pray I won’t spend too much time daydreaming that I’m on a deserted island with my Chocolate Blessing during class whilst being in my Extra Single State.

Abba Father,

Give me an extra portion of Your Spirit so I may be a perfect example of a fallen person perfected by Your grace. Help me to love You more and love others the way You love them. Aaanndd…

Thanks for everything.

Your Daughter,

Jenaya

The Gitters and Successes of My First Day Teaching.

Instead of wasting away brain cells by looking at other people’s lives on Facebook whilst waiting for my soy protein and calcium infused protein shake to thicken in the freezer, I decided to blog a tad.

Today I felt like a real adult. I actually did all the things on my to-do list, followed up with a student who had an issue (instead of forget where I put the sticky note I put what I needed to do on). Oh! Speaking of students, this was my first day teaching. Happiness!

It’s kinda not my first day teaching per se, but it’s definitely my first day teaching—if that makes any sense. My first degree is in elementary education—so I’ve been teaching for a while. I never saw myself staying in a classroom for the rest of my life. Being a schoolteacher seemed like a death sentence. Just the thought of teaching carrying-over numbers in addition and science fairs and “let’s plot the continents” year after year made me very queasy in my insides. Some people can do that and I’m so happy for them because they may one day be teaching Leighton and her brothers and sisters (but I’m 89% sure I’ll be homeschooling unless there’s a bilingual school in the area).

But then again, I really don’t see myself doing ANYTHING consistently for the rest of my life. Even brushing my teeth and peeing seem so monotonous some days. I think to myself, “Did I not just pee like 2 hours ago??” Not saying that I can change the necessary functions in life, but if I could, I would. I like the new and exciting things that come with living.

So back to today.

My first day teaching.

I actually got a part-time adjunct faculty position at the university where I’ll be working on my doctorate. The sound of that sentence is so daunting and deathly. How in the world did I get to be in this place of my life?? Was I not just a sophomore and 19 a few months ago? I digress.

I will be teaching 3 sections of COMM 161 which is Business and Professional Speaking. It’s absolutely amazing that the Department of Communication here deems me qualified to be in control of the learning of 75 individuals. So cool! The favor of my Savior astounds me.

My day actually started at like 8 am (it was supposed to be 7) when I went walking. Jesus and I had an agreement that I was going to walk for 15 minutes—7.5 minutes in one direction and 7.5 minutes back to my bed. It ended up being 30 minutes of grief, but He kept telling me to walk further past my 15 minute comfort zone.

After my shower, I packed my backpack. This part was a bit tricky. I had to pack lunch, a change of clothes, MacKenzie my laptop, phone, a pen, textbook, notepad, blah blah blah. And shoes. It was a challenge because my backpack is little and I have to ride my bike to work. I get to the building right before the Fine Arts Building and change from my biking clothes to my work clothes—a bit awkward, but doable.

My classes started at 1130. My next one was 1240. My last was 150. Or something like that. Back to back. Very little time to take a bitty snack on my peanut butter sandwich and absolutely no time to play Words with Friends (an electronic Scrabble game you play with people I know on my phone.)

How was teaching?

Thanks for asking.

It was fabulous! I was a bit gittery in the first class, but about 4.5 minutes into it, I was fine. I absolutely loved it and can see myself teaching for the foreseeable future. I could probably teaching for like…10 years. Maybe 15. Who knows.

It was the weirdest thing to present my syllabus and my to my class. Like, I wrote it. It’s all mine. They were listening to me. I wanted to stop teaching and ask them if they knew that it was just a few semesters ago that I was in their shoes. Such a déjà vu experience.

The only most terrible thing at the moment is that I think my knees are broken. I haven’t really gotten out of bed yet. I’m not even that sleepy , but I did take a nap. Walking to the kitchen to get my soy-protein, calcium-enriched chocolate beverage is going to be very difficult. My mom said I should stretch my knees, buuuuttt you can’t stretch bone. I hope my knees are still alive tomorrow morning.

A few goals I have for this semester. I want to work on writing things down and following through with things I have to get done. No more random sticky notes. I used a small notebook today to jot things down and checked things off when they were done. I hope this system works. Also, I want to work on staying ahead by at least 2 weeks in the planning of my class. I also want to work on balancing. I will be taking a class, teaching 3, but I need me-time and time to focus on growing holistically. I’ll be taking a lot of time to revamp my eating philosophy and goals and focusing on exercising consistently.

And I think that’s all.

Buen semestre!

First Night in My Newly Leased Apartment...

I am settled..yeah no. I’m actually not settled. Not settled at all. My insides are settled, but my room is a mess. And it’s not even a room. It’s my very first apartment!!! A few observations if you will.

I think that somebody needs to install some Partier Insurance for those who are not interested in listening to a party happening under one’s feet—namely me. It doesn’t really bother me, but it is quite different. When I was at Murray State, I didn’t allow myself to go to the Scary Unknown—or off-campus apartments without somebody holding my hand. I heard that it was fun, but I didn’t want to take the risk of introducing my flesh to fun, liking it, and subsequently failing out of college. So, I stayed inside as a humble, meek school gal.

Now here I am. 24 and in an off campus apartment. The appeal is minimal. I’m too old now to be enticed by the Scary Unknown. The thudding of the newest and most hip rap songs I am hoping will lull me to sleep.

I am ever so grateful to have this opportunity to be in my own place—my own little nook of paradise. I think I will like this very much.

Peace and Blessings.

JLP

P.S. I never really told my readers that I am back from Holly, Michigan. So, there you go. I’m back as of August 7^th or 9^th—the days run together.

My Date with Myself at Starbucks

There are a few things that I am looking forward to in my future. A few things that I am not looking forward to at all. Here’s an example of one per category. 1) My husband loving me. 2) My kids fighting. Both are in my thoughts today. I noticed these two things at Starbucks on my date with myself.

I was minding my own business when this 3.5ish year old child decides whilst standing to put his foot on his younger brother’s (about 2ish) shoulder trying to squash him. The mom told him to stop in a very hushed and appropriate, authoritative voice as any good mom would do. And the boy says honestly and with deep sincerity, “But Mom! I was trying to squash him!!” Hilarious. But I know that my squirts are going to do that one day and I’ll have to be the mom who does not think that is funny rather than the very single and casual observer.

Secondly. At about 2 o’clock from me, maybe 1:30, there is an older couple possibly retired who are sitting on the love seat together and not speaking to each other, but are transversally sending love vibes to each other. They have matching Toshiba laptops and the wife has a mouse. They came out on a Saturday morning to get their Starbucks beverages, do their internet work, but they did more than that to me. They showed me that love, the kind that lasts vintage, still exists somewhere. In a land where there is not much left of it, it is refreshing to see. I can have that one day. I pray I’ll have that one day.

But I still have an entire lifetime to acquire such a gift.

The one thing that amazes me is that their love started at my age. Her childrearing started at my age. Few people don’t equate their daily decisions and choices to lifetime repercussions. I forget this often as well. Marriages and childrearing take much planning and contemplation. You don’t just accidently raise children or accidentally stay married for 40, 30, or even 20 years. It takes work and time and emotional equity. So my sitting here reading The Help by Kathryn Stockett (an excellent read) is equipping me for parenting and marriaging one day. It’s amazing. How? It adds one more thing that I can instruct my children in (e.g. reading is a gift and should be used often.) It also adds one more thing when I talk to my hubs and ask him if he’s ever read The Help or a book about Southern living in the 1960s. He may say yes. He may say no. But it will spark a new conversational strand.

P.S. The orange-mango-banana smoothie with no protein, soy, and green matcha tea powder is uber green and uber delicious.

Holly Blog 34: Jenaya Clone

Have you ever met someone and you thought you were talking to yourself? How creepy and cool would that be! Well, that’s what happened to me last week. We indeed had 5 campers with 18 staff last week and the students were incredibly well behaved and we the staff actually made more noise than they did. The latter was a bit awkward at times.

As soon as one of the girls walked off the bus, I said to myself, “Wow! This will be interesting.” And indeed it was. She would just talk or breathe or think or feel something and I was just convinced that I was talking to myself. Here’s a list of some of the things I remember that we had in common:

Listened to NPR (National Public Radio)
Didn’t like her peers because they do things that don’t make sense or are good.
Would rather read than be with her peers.
Likes to wear her fro.
Prefers pie crust in a pie and if the pie crust is not good, she will not eat the pie.
Loved the husband and wife team “Rodrigo and Gabriela” on Youtube when I introduced her to them.
Saw herself in college earning several degrees.
Was planning on how she was going to make a huge impact in the world.
Knew that her hometown is not where she wanted to stay for the rest of her life.
Had roots in the South.
Wore what she wanted to wear despite opposition from peers and shallow authority.
Not a hint of girly.
Used the word “magnanimous” in a sentence correctly.
LOVED Scrabble.
Used synonyms and plays on words to make jokes.
Was the ONLY one who understood ALL my jokes.
Thought dancing was difficult because there was no mathematical equation to solve.

She encouraged me in her 16-year old way that who I am is ok. I don’t know why I still question this fact being 24. Some days, I’m perfectly fine with who I am. Others, I’m so totally not. It kinda depends on several factors including, but not exclusively bound to wind pressure, estrogen level, the minute I wake up, what day it is, who I’m around, type of toothpaste used, and/or leg hair length—the longer the sexier.

Peace and blessings.

JLP

Holly Blog 33: Starfish Campers

There’s a story about a guy standing on a beach littered with starfish that had been washed up. This was their promised death. It was up to time as to when their last breath would be. Well, one random guy carefully made his way through the starfish clad beach picking up one starfish after another chucking them back into the ocean. After a while, a kid comes up to him and asks, “Why are you doing this?” The guy responds, “Because starfish will die if they’re out of the ocean.” The kid replies, “But there’s thousands. It makes no difference.” In mid throw, the man replies, “It makes a difference to that one.”

I feel like the guy throwing the starfish back. Here we are with 5 campers. The camper to counselor ratio is 1:3. But I am here for each individual student to show them how to cherish and love being outside and to share my life with them. I learn and they learn. Symbiosis.

Let the week begin!!

July 25, 2011

Toronto Blog 4 / Holly Blog 32: Goodbye Canada, Hello USA.

I don’t really feel like I needed a welcome home party or to buy myself something special after surviving this jaunt across the border. I left and came back. No big deal. I definitely want to tour Europe or South and/or Central America and stay in hostels the entire time. I also decided after going to the Royal Ontario Museum which had 4-hours worth of cool stuff from bugs to ancient artifacts to bats to dinosaur bones that I MUST touch the head of a beluga whale one day. I forgot that I saw one on a Sesame Street episode and knew I had to touch its white marshmallow-shaped head one day.

I also want to acknowledge the incredible loss in the Norwegian community of 80+ people. We as a people must learn how to love and deal with aggression in a positive way. Unloving people hurt people. You don’t have to kill to hurt. Some people have been terrorized emotionally by unloving people. Those crimes don’t make the news but have just as much impact.

Now I’m back sitting on my bunk at camp. Refreshed, I have 24 minutes before I start my job again. Countdown starts later this week. Almost home!!

Peace and blessings.

JLP

Toronto Blog 3 / Holly Blog 31: Fro Day

Every time I go to another country, I have to take a pic of me and my fro. Canada is no exception. I woke up on Toronto Day 2 and got fro’d out. Fro days make me smile on the inside and the outside. Mine is getting big now which makes me even happier.

Most times, I’ll get weird stares even in the states. It totally baffles Asians. Few understand or even want to understand the philosophy of the fro, but I choose to wear mine for several reasons with one being that people should be exposed to the beauty and wonderment of natural black hair.

I wasn’t sure how Canada was going to take it. Mexico = cat calls by the men. Belize = “Eh! My sister and her mane” with much love by the Rastas. Argentina = hushed whispers in corners and kids pointing. Canada = nothing.

Nobody cared. I was amazed at how many people didn’t care. No stares, no fingers pointed, no nothing. Then I figured out why. In Toronto, everybody’s weird. People have tuned out the idiosyncrasies of people’s self-expressions and move along with their lives with little contact with each other. With the guy sitting across the table from me at lunch whose entire body from what I could see was tattooed—including his head and ears, to the girl with the random hair cut, to the stripper with five ¼-inch thick lines that made up her pants that we saw later that night, my fro didn’t matter. And I liked that.

Toronto Blog 2 / Holly Blog 30: Canadian Delectables and Helmetlessness

We had a few options for getting around Toronto. But we were all really poor (camp jobs don’t have millionaire-esque salaries). We decided on the public bikes. Very contemporary, cool, sustainable, and different. We paid $5 dollars for 24 hours to use the bikes. They weighed a million pounds—or maybe 75—and had to be checked into a dock every 30 minutes. The city had just instituted this bike program some months ago and the Torontoans were very skeptic. We the American tourists were stopped quite often by the city dwellers and asked about the details. I was like, “Don’t they have newspapers where they told you about this? You could just Google it like we did.” I was entertained.

The bike docks were separated by about 2 blocks and were all over downtown. So we rode around until we saw something we wanted to see or eat, docked the bike, and walked. Then, the credit card of our navigator was swiped (not to pay extra, but to verify that we had already paid), we unlocked the bike using a machine’s randomly generated number code, and we were off to our next destination. Apparently this type of program is being used in several other cities. It was great to not have to get on an old smelly trolley and to whiz through traffic like we owned Toronto. I would definitely try to find another city that had the same set-up and take to the streets. $5 very well spent.

For lunch, we had to go find a Canadian favorite. Poutine. Now, I must tell you. I am a dipper, not a pourer when it comes to sauces on my food. I like to have control in at least all areas of my life and with food there is no exception. I feel like when sauce is poured that I can’t choose to not have sauce—ever. This fact stresses me out. And this fact is why poutine (poo-TEA-knee) was not what I ordered for lunch. This dish is French fries, cheese curds, and brown gravy poured over it to resemble cheese fries. You can also have whatever topics between the French fries and gravy. A few options were all sautéed veggies, pulled pork, beef tips, lamb, chicken chunks, etc. I tried two French fries from my coworker and they were tasty, but I went elsewhere to satiate my belly.

My palate for lunch enjoyed a crepe to go. Oh my golly great! I found out about crepes actually in Mexico. There was a bistro there that made them fresh. I was in love. Crepes are super thin pancakes and are actually French. From what I’ve heard, French crepes are about 8-10 inches in diameter and rolled. The ones I’ve had are 10-12 inches in diameter, folded in half, choice condiments spread on the half-circle, then folded in thirds to make a triangle. I had mine with spinach and feta cheese—the only cheese that doesn’t make my belly hurt because it’s made from goat milk. I felt totally cool because I ate my crepe while riding my bike in traffic in Toronto with no helmet. My dad always told me to wear a helmet.

Yes. I’m awesome.

Bucket list check: Ride my bike in a busy area with no helmet.

Toronto Blog 1 / Holly Blog 29: “Oh Canada!”

We woke up, finalized our first day plans, and were off to Toronto. I was awake until the border crossing, then fell into a deep sleep until 30 minutes outside of my vacation spot. I was so glad I didn’t have to drive. Car rides make me so very sleepy and having a long week previous to the trip didn’t help my heavy eyelids stay open.

One thing that made me exceptionally angry happened less than ¼ mile into Canada. I was so eager to see stuff that was truly Canadian—maybe a moose or a maple tree—SOMETHING Canadian. And what greeted me?

McDonalds. My cultural synapse wretched and my mood tanked for about 10 miles. How indemnifying. Yes, I do realize that McDonalds is a corporate, transnational giant, but it was still irritating. I guess they justified their presence by placing a maple leaf emblem at the crux of the double arches. Ugh Americanization of the entire universe.

Traffic picked up and we got lost a bit and then drove around for about 30 minutes. Then we arrived at another one of my bucket list entries. A hostel.

A hostel for years scared me cuz it’s so close in sound to “brothel” and I don’t want to be associated with being a prostitute or exotic associate. But then, I found out what a hostel really is. A hostel is a building with rooms where you stay inexpensively and pay per bed or per private room. I’m not exactly sure how the large the main room is where several guests stay in one room because we rented out a private room. The one we stayed in offered internet, breakfast, and a relatively clean stay. The greatest and coolest thing about hostels is the international presence. Everywhere you turned there was a new language. I wish I could have spent time with some of the others staying there. What you pay for is what you get. And what you see is what you get. No extra amenities. It was higher quality than our cabin, but could be equated to the rejected, illegitimate, no alimony dispensed to love child of a Hilton hotel. But I paid $25 a night. So I’m not complaining.

Our room had two sets of bunk beds. I got top bunk. Our view of Toronto from our first window was of a brick wall and in the second, we had a perfect view into the window of the guests’ room across the mini courtyard.

Classy.

Secret Destination Blog 1 / Holly Blog 28: Weekend Jaunt

Let’s play a guessing game.

We’re gonna call it—“Where is Jenaya.”

I saw the following: Trees, buildings, KFC, Taco Bell, Target, Walmart Supercentre, aaaanddd LOTS of stoplights.

The answer:

TORONTO!!!

On Thursday of last week, I was moping around camp because I NEEDED to leave after the last 10-days of chaos and stress with the students being here. I was so done and didn’t want to see a tree, a bug, or ANY dirt…or anybody under 21. I was completely drained and couldn’t contribute anymore to society. I wanted to go to Chicago, but couldn’t figure it out…then Canada but couldn’t find anybody to go with.

But my strategy when people don’t want to do anything is to just whine louder until somebody wants to do what I want to do. Most times it works. And this is precisely how I got to Toronto. Two of my coworkers and I sat down at 11am and decided we were going to Canada and left the day after.

YAY ADVENTURE!!

I was so grateful to be able to go to Toronto for a couple reasons. Firstly, Jesus made my plans even better than I could have ever made them. Initially I just wanted to cross the border to Canada from Detroit. This has been on my bucket list for a while because the border crossing in Detroit is the only place you must go south in order to get to Canada. I thought that was cool.

I quickly found a couple shirts and a couple pairs of shorts, toothpaste, some soap, my phone, MacKenzie (my laptop), and my tennis shoes; stuffed them in a bag, found my passport, got in the van, and was off. At this point, the only thing keeping me from the USA border was a load of laundry and a bonding moment at Tropical Smoothie with my mouth and a Caribbean Jerk chicken pita bread wrap and a delicious overpriced smoothie, and a night’s sleep.

Holly Blog 27: Thankyoulessness

I feel like a mother most days I’m here. Get the kids up. Take them to activities. Make sure they eat and drink water. Listen to their stories. Sit with them when they cry.

Etc.

One thing that I have really struggled with over the past several days is how challenging it is to do a job day in and day out without any gratitude reciprocated. For example, right now, I’m sitting in the staff lounge waiting for my campers’ laundry to get finished and will haul it back to them. I’m sure they’ll complain that their clothes aren’t dry enough or that it was 2 hours past the time I said that it would be done (noon). Shouldn’t you be grateful that you GOT laundry in the middle of the woods—twice? In 10 days?

I was talking to Jesus about how to serve even when I am treated like a SERVant. I love to serve when my service isn’t being abused or to whom I am service is grateful. But the former is not my reality and the latter is not my current situation.

I just think about all the times in the Bible when Jesus served and people weren’t grateful. Taking what He did on the cross away (which should technically trump everything that He did on the earth), people talked about how He didn’t do things with correct protocol or how brash and callous He was for healing one person and not healing another. Personal agendas were not taken into consideration by Him and He did the will of the Father regardless of the side commentary.

And on that note, I am done waiting for laundry that has been trying to dry for 3 hours now.

Dear Jesus,
Help me to serve Your creation. And help me to be brave when they feel their clothes and they’re not 100% dry and the girls aren’t happy.

Amen.

P.S. Thanks for the humidity :)

Holly Blog 26: Night Hike

There are a few things I learned about walking at night in the woods with boys. One, if they sag, they can’t hike. Watching them waddle and pull up their pants whilst stepping over branches and tall grass was pretty entertaining. Two, don’t be the caboose because it smells bad—they tend to fart and have no shame in their game.

As hard-core as these kids are that I’m working with, they had met their match in the woods at night. The most “gangster” of them all was scared of tree limbs snapping under his shoes and of the cricket mating call. I saw their eyes open to new experiences and true living as they saw a night full of stars and heard the distant bullfrog burping. It was astounding to me how much they enjoyed tramping through the woods and how greatly their temperments changed. They were peaceful and calm for the first time since they arrived which was about 5 days ago.

It is a constant battle for me to see the good and the innocent in these students, but it is there and I’m proud of both myself and them. For them because they are completely out of their comfort zone and are growing emotionally and psychologically whether they see it or not. For me because I have taken the time and energy to search for the good—almost like finding gold in a mine cave or a pearl amongst pigs.

Holly Blog 25: The ABC's Gangster Style

I learned today that you can put syrup on oatmeal and breakfast danishes. I think this sugar intake is getting out of control, but it is nonetheless keeping me very entertained at the moment.

I heard a pretty cool saying. My mom said that back in her day, they used to say “This was an A and B conversation, so I suggest that you C your way out of it” in order to describe how desperately they needed you to mind your own bee’s wax. Today I heard one that is even cooler.

“This was an A and B conversation. So you need to C your way out before D jumps over E and F’s you up like a G.”

My response: BAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAAA!!!!!

So creative.

The girls in my cabin decided to wake up at 5:30 to get their showers before breakfast. We went to bed at our normal time of 11ish and were finally quiet and sleepable by midnight. The most unfortunate part of this story is that my best and most prime/optimal sleep time is from 5-7am. Therefore, I was EXHAUSTED when I woke up because I had missed my beauty rest. But I work for the students and thus I sleep not.

Holly Blog 24: All good things come in sets of 24.

HA!!! I’m 24 and this is blog 24. This makes me smile. :D

I’ve been noticing that sugar or “Sucrose” or C12H22O11 is not something that is tablespooned into a bowl of REGULAR cheerios. “But wait! There’s more” (said in my TV sell-useless-stuff voice). Sugar can also be served on sautéed potatoes, barbecue chicken, and my favorite. Cherry pie. Really? Sugar on a cherry pie? This has gone too far, but nevertheless, I am highly entertained.

P.S. My blog entries are going to be much more brief in content just because I have less time to devote to developing ideas in my head and typing. But I’ll be doing my best to keep my readers entertained.

Peace and blessings :)

Holly Blog 23: Parenting = Camp Counseloring

As a camp counselor, I feel like a glorified parent. At the moment, there are more counselors than there are kids—why I’m not sure. As long as they don’t send me home early or decrease my check or something, I’m fine. I just got used to all the bugs, dirt, excessive nature, dirt…bugs…dirt…and now I get to experience the newness of it all over again. I think that’s one of the reasons why God makes children. Right when you’ve experienced everything on the world and are about to get bored with life, you have the privilege to procreate (when done with correct timing and reason) and you get to see life from a different perspective.

When the students are freaking out over naturey-stuff, I get to be the big girl and say, “Yeah, the bugs are big, but they can’t kill you. No worries!...”

Holly Blog 22: KIDS ARE HERE!!

July 12

So I’ve been asked the following questions.

“What is that bug?!” x 450

“We’re staying where?! For how long?” x 357

“When’s lunch?” x 49

“When’s dinner?” x 27

“How far is (fill in the blank)?”

“Why does this water taste so (fill in the blank)?” x 578

And my two personal favorites:

1) “Are there piranhas in the lake?”

2) “Are those tire tracks?! Can we get in the car to drive to (fill in the blank)?”

Holly Blog 21: THE Artiste

I met somebody famous today and it was no big deal. Tyree Guyton stepped out onto his porch one morning and had a vision for his neighborhood. He saw art. Outside. In his neighborhood. Everywhere. He then began working to make real what was in his head. Several years later, he’s now uber famous in the art world and I saw him edging his yard. How cool is that!

Clad with a big pair of shades and an old hat driving an older F-150 hauling junk, I stopped him and said, “Do you live here?” He says:

“WHOA WHOA WHOA!!! Let’s start that over. Hi. How are you?” I obliged with an apology and with common salutatory sayings. I asked again if he lives here and he says “You can say that.” I asked what his name was and he said “Tyree.” I asked how long he’s lived here and he said “a while.” I asked what he does and he said “I am an artist and I did this.”

“WHOA WHOA WHOA!!! You’re THE artiste?! I’m honored.”

I talked with him for a good 30 minutes or so and learned a whole lot of things about life and art. He asked me at first if I was an artist. I said yes. I play classical piano. We talked about how I see the world through music and how he sees it. The further I delved into the conversation. I realized that I am an artist, but not because I am a pianist. I am an artist because I am a living being. And life is art. Therefore, I don’t do art. I am art.

I’ve been thinking about this concept for two days now and the ramifications and implications are astounding. I was actually ashamed of my answer to his, “Are you an artist” question because I feel that it was very shallow and non-committal. Ever since my come-to-Jesus-moment in December when I reevaluated everything that I thought was me and realized how far I had swum into the Sea of IAmEverythingAndNobodyAndHaveNoClueWhoJenayaIs, I’ve struggled with the idea of “Who am I” and “What I Do” are completely different and that some things belong in one category, some in others, and others in none. For example: “I am a pianist”—that is what I do. “I am love”—that goes into both for I am loving and I love (what I do). Both are equally valuable and necessary. So when it all came down to it, “Jenaya” is a blank piece of canvas and I have the privilege of drawing who I am.

One of the questions I asked him was “How do you maintain who you are when you have all this fame and prestige?” He said it’s simple. I remember who I am. For I will be Tyree in this circle and I will be Tyree in that crowd. Tyree never changes even though he moves.

How profound and so simple. Yet so seemingly impossible. To me, this approach to maintaining one’s sanity in this convoluted and “self”-stealing world is truly something that must be practiced.

I’ll probably be coming back to this point later. I am a slow thinker. Well, not slow, more like thorough.

On to cleaning the bathrooms. We get students today (WOOHOO!!!). Time to start doing my job.

Peace out!

JLP

Holly Blog 20: Sad moment in the life of my pajamas

I just changed into my pajamas and noticed a tragic happening. There is a hole in my busom and my heart is half-crushed. I’ve had these same pajamas since probably my sophomore year of high school which was AAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Almost 10 years ago. They’re a onesie that’s real floofy and airy and was white at one time. Every other year, I’d lose them in my closet or think I was too cool to wear them. But every time, I’d pull them out, wash out the dust, one leg and then the next, zip up the front, and be in my happy place.

This isn’t the first hole. There are 7 holes in the polyester lacing at the top—three of which will soon be just one big giant one. Also, there are two polyester-laced pockets on the side which are not capable of being called pockets for the entire bottoms are holed. What makes this one different? Because now I have a mini-hole in the terrycloth section. Terrycloth is doesn’t disintegrate without effort.

And to make my pajamas even more of a charity case, they now have a yellow tint because of the rust-flavored water. Mm-mm-delicious!

How I will miss my royal blue encircled sleeveless armed, polyester-laced at the top, terrycloth onesie bought from an Avon catalog so many years ago—perfect for shaving while still being appropriately clothed and sleeping and providing happy slumber.

Let this blog not make you assume that I will be throwing these away anytime soon. I think they will stay with me for the foreseeable future. I’ll prolly even bring them to my honeymoon to introduce my future hubs to my close and personal wardrobe constant. So just in case Jesus is reading my blog, I would like to put in my request that my HONEYMOON be in the FORESEEABLE FUTURE…

Just sayin…

Peace out everybody!